A Rose is Just a Rose, Except When it's Not
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Summary A man died trying to get a microdot to UNCLE. He just forgot to mention where he put it. Written for the 2017 Spring Fling for MFU


He stumbled into the glass and his fingers struggled to make purchase against it. After a moment they found the handle and he found his way in. Already he could feel the tendrils of the poison starting to inch its way into his body. Soon it would be too late and the moist warm air seemed to smother him.

He tripped and staggered his way to a bench. Groaning he sat there and tried to gather his runaway thoughts. He needed to move quickly now. THRUSH would soon discover both he and the micro dot were gone. There was no time to get himself to safety, but his conscience wouldn't permit THRUSH to keep this evil weapon.

He got to his feet and looked around in the murky light. He needed to hide the microdot, but where? There were so many places, but to put it somewhere UNCLE and not THRUSH would find it.

His auntie's voice came to him and he wished for one last warm, loving embrace from her.

"Remember, dear Chris, ferns are for confidence and shelter and purple hyacinths ask for forgiveness."

That was it! "Thank you, Auntie. Hopefully, I'll see you soon."

Time was short and he got to work.

The moment they stepped from the cold March air into the arboretum, Illya's glasses fogged up in the moist warm air. He pulled them off and polished the lenses with his handkerchief before tucking them away. Napoleon watched him fondly before he felt the need to pull off his gloves and open his overcoat. A moment later, it was over his arm.

"Nice. Instant Spring," he said as he loosened his muffler. The arboretum was sparsely attended at the moment.

"Temperate House was opened in 1862 and it permitted them to have flowers and plants blooming at all time of the year," Illya read from his guidebook. "The Victorians were all about control."

"And repressed sexuality."

Illya looked up from his book and smirked. "Imagine you knowing that."

"Hey, I paid attention in class. It happened over here." Napoleon led the way to a sheltered bench by a waterfall. "They say it was a slow-acting poison. He never meant to be found alive by either of us."

"I disagree. He sent us a message to meet him here." Illya dropped the guide book into his coat pocket and looked around at all the blooming plants. "And that he had something for us."

"Any idea what?"

"Apparently, THRUSH is working on a new weapon. It can control the weather. You play ball and they will make sure you have enough sun and rain to let you live. You don't and you have a choice – death by flood, death by permanent winter, death by heat, death by…"

"I get the picture," Napoleon said drily. He glanced around and sighed. "Talk about a needle in a haystack."

"And I'm sure THRUSH has already been here." Illya nodded to a broken pot. "That reeks of their subtlety."

Napoleon was looking around, his brow furrowed as he loosened his tie. "He said it was well hidden and to rely on language."

"Which language? There are just a few to choose from."

"I don't know. He neglected to mention that part in his transmission." He set his overcoat down on the bench and dusted off his hands. "I guess there's nothing to do but start looking."

An hour later got them no closer to their goal and dejected, both men admitted defeat and collapsed on the bench. Illya stared into the waterfall as Napoleon called in their progress or lack thereof. He let the sound of the waterfall drown out Napoleon's voice and he watched the flowers that lazily floated in the water.

 _It was odd, really,_ Illya thought as the blossoms floated by. There weren't any of those same flowers in the area.

"Well, he loved that" Napoleon muttered. "Fury, thy name is Waverly. He is not pleased that we haven't gotten the micro dot yet."

"You could always invite him in to have a look."

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?"

"You keep staring at the waterfall."

"Just something curious."

"And are you going to share or must I take extreme measures."

"What? Oh, I was just noticing how the flowers floating in the water here are nowhere near. It's almost as if—"

"Someone purposefully put them there."

Excitedly, Napoleon reopened the channel. "Put me through to Research, please. I need someone who is familiar with the language of flowers."

"Hi, Napoleon. This is Jessie. How can I help?"

"How much do you know about flowers? More succinctly, their language?"

"Pretty good, I think. What do you have?"

"A white lily." Napoleon reached into the water and fished it out.

Jessie's voice was tinny. "Usually something pure or virginal."

Illya snorted at that, but jotted down the information in his notebook.

"Then there's a hyacinth."

"Well, generally it means games and sports. What color is it?"

"Purple."

"That means I'm sorry."

"Next there's a," Napoleon stopped. "Do you know what this is?"

Illya looked around until he saw the same flower and walked quickly to the signage. "A begonia."

"A begonia," Napoleon repeated into his communicator. The humidity and earthy smell of the arboretum was giving him a headache."

"That's usually a warning of something bad to come."

"That makes sense. Next I have a nasturtium."

"That is a conquest or victory in battle."

"Finally, there's a white carnation with some red in it."

"Sorry I can't be with you or I wish I could be with you."

"Wow, that makes no sense at all," Illya admitted squatting at Napoleon's side. "We have someone virginal warning us of bad games and sports and regretting that she or he can't be with us when we win." Illya closed his book with a sigh. "It was a good try, though."

Napoleon nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the flowers. "Okay, thanks, Jessie."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"Now it's my turn," Illya said. "What are you seeing?"

"Five flowers: a lily, a begonia, a nasturtium, a carnation, and a hyacinth." He rearranged them on the rocks. "You are good at word games, Illya. What words can you make from that?"

"None. You are lacking a vowel."

There was something so close that Napoleon could nearly taste it. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. For some reason, his mind kept coming back to Easter, then he grinned. "How about an Easter lily?"

Illya thought for a moment and then looked over at Napoleon's coat or rather the bench beneath it. "You have got to be kidding me."

Napoleon laughed and moved quickly to the bench. It only took him a matter of minutes to find the micro dot, which he immediately, tucked away. "Well, it was a good try." His voice said one thing, but his eyes said something else to his partner. He tossed the flowers back into the water.

"I can't believe we got this close. THRUSH must have found it after all." Illya stood and let his attention wander. There were more people in the arboretum now. Not all of them had the look of flower appreciators. "I think it's time to count our losses and see if there's another lead to follow. Mr. Waverly has to have another plan by now." He reached into his pocket and clicked his communicator on.

Napoleon's communicator chirped and he hurried to answer it. He made a great pretense of hiding it from view and talking softly into it. Then he nodded. "Got it." He put the communicator away. "That was HQ. They found the microdot on Galloway's body. Seems he had a hollow tooth."

Suddenly four nearby men headed for the exits and Napoleon winked at his partner. "So, tell me, partner, what else can you say with flowers?"

Illya held up a leaf and smiled. "So long, suckers?"

"Works for me." Laughing, Napoleon picked up his overcoat and they both headed for the next exhibit.


End file.
